Couple get ready for their final move

At first, the elderly couple said they would run away, but after touring their assisted-living home, they said to relatives, "Oh, you kids, this is too nice a place.''

By MELANIE AVE

© St. Petersburg Times, published February 20, 2000

ST. PETERSBURG -- In the twilight of their lives, Richard and Nellie Burman seem to be at peace about what probably will be their last move.

The first few boxes wait in the living room, their cardboard shells ready to be filled with a lifetime of belongings and memories. A combined 194 years of independence is ending.

"I won't have to cook anymore. That's what Robert says," Mrs. Burman said, referring to her son. "That will be nice."

On Tuesday, Richard Burman, 102, and Nellie, 92, will move from their tidy mobile home in central St. Petersburg to an apartment at Casa Celeste, an assisted-living center in Seminole. It's the kind of decision families make every day, with varying degrees of difficulty.

Robert Ludwig, Mrs. Burman's son from her first marriage and a retired dentist in California, is orchestrating the move from his home in Palm Desert.

But Mrs. Burman, a short, giggly blond who used to clean offices for a living, sometimes struggles with thoughts of this transition. Tears well in her eyes, but they don't fall.

At Casa Celeste, the Burmans will receive meals three times a day and shuttles to doctor's appointments, bank trips and shopping excursions. Housekeepers will clean their apartment once a week. Nursing care will be a call away.

The Burmans would prefer to live out their days at home, but the years have taken a toll on their bodies. Life's daily tasks have grown more difficult.

Mrs. Burman still drives her son's burgundy Buick to the grocery store and meat market, but she notes that she will not renew her driver's license when it expires, even though she's never had an accident.

"I'm 93," she said. Her 93rd birthday is next month.

Neither takes any kind of medication. "They don't like doctors very well, and they don't like pills," Ludwig said.

About five years ago, Richard Burman had a mild heart attack. He told everyone, "I just sat up in the chair and took some deep breaths," his stepson said. "When Mother found out, she took him to the doctor the next day."

Richard Burman uses a three-wheeled walker to keep from falling, and his wifesleeps with an oxygen tank at night to ease breathing problems. Both struggle with memory loss. Hers seems worse since a recent fall.

"I don't know what's happening with my mind," she said.

Living thousands of miles way, Ludwig believes the assisted-living center will ease his worries about the Burmans.

"We feel like they need a little more help now than they did before," said 72-year-old Ludwig. "They kind of lose track. That's part of the reason it has to be this way."

On Wednesday, Richard Burman celebrated his 102nd birthday with a small gathering of friends and carrot cake and coffee. A multicolored bouquet of flowers from his daughter in Michigan sat on the kitchen table.

Early in the afternoon, he relaxed in a recliner, wearing a light blue shirt and dark blue pants, one sock on and one sock off. He was puzzled about all the commotion over his birthday.

"What started all this?" he asked, leaning toward his wife to hear her response. "Am I that important?"

"It's your 102nd birthday, Daddy," she replied.

"One hundred two? Ohhh," he said, and chuckled.

The Burmans married 41 years ago. She was a mother of one and a 51-year-old widow. He was a 60-year-old divorced father of two.

"I don't know where we met. Do you?" she asked her husband. "I think we met in an office somewhere in Michigan. I was going to walk home, and the lawyer said, "No you're not. He's going to drive you home.' "

Their history, much of which they've forgotten, goes like this.

Mrs. Burman was born near Cadillac, Mich., the daughter of a homesteader. Her husband was born in Ogilvie, Minn., the son of a cattleman.

Richard Burman used to have a "naughty, off-the-wall" sense of humor, said his stepdaughter-in-law, Carolyn Ludwig. One time as a teenager, as she was told, his friends at church dared him to slip in the World War I song It's a Long, Long Way to Tipperary while he played the organ during service.

"All the younger ones were laughing and the minister finally got a hold of it," she said. "They kicked him out of church. He's always had this great wit. I think that's been the secret of his long life. He's never worried about a lot of things.

"He's so light-hearted. He has lost some of that in the last couple of years. But it does come out every now and then."

Like Wednesday, when Mrs. Burman fussed at her husband to fix the black and gray hair sticking up in back of his head, and to tuck in his shirt pants because part of his small belly poked through. Company was there, after all.

"That's air conditioning," he joked.

Richard Burman grew up to work many jobs, including truck driving and his favorite, railroading. Throughout his career, he worked as a switchman, brakeman and conductor. He retired from the C&L Railroad 37 years ago.

"My dad told me one time, "Son, retirement is just a word,' " said Burman's son, Paul, a 57-year-old railroad conductor who lives in Jenison, Mich. "When you retire someday and hit the rocking chair, it'll kill you. Look for work. Keep active and do things.

"I think that's what's kept him alive."

Two years ago, John Goddard caught Richard Burman up on a ladder, cleaning the windows on his mobile home.

"I said, "Richard, you're a hundred years old, for crying out loud. Get down from there,' " remembered Goddard, who owns the mobile home park where the Burmans live.

"We're all sad to see them go," he said. "But at this time of their lives, they need someone to look after them."

Mrs. Burman remembers the day her husband retired. He stood in the kitchen wearing his uniform and cried.

Railroading was a "hobby" and a "hard life," but it remains the fondest memory of his long life. And his favorite activity of late?

"Sleep," he answered when asked. "I'm a sleeper. I'm a good sleeper."

On a typical day, Mrs. Burman rises early and makes breakfast for the two of them, usually toast, coffee, juice and, on some occasions, eggs.

"I call him to breakfast, but he's rarely up to eat it," she said, smiling from behind round glasses that cover the eyes that have gotten so bad she gave up crocheting.

Her husband sleeps off and on during the day while she cleans the house and does chores. Sometimes she likes to sit in her living room and watch the cars going by. When they go to the grocery store, she drives and he waits in the car so he doesn't have to walk that much. She likes to buy a lot of groceries at a time so she doesn't have to go too often.

She enjoys taking care of her husband. "He's spoiled, but it's fun spoiling him," she said.

Their pastor, Tom Couch, described the Burmans as a humble and appreciative couple who enjoy putting puzzles together, reading the Bible and listening to church services on cassette tape.

"When you're 102, you're through with all the thrills, vacations and making money," said the pastor of Central Bible Church. "The two of them have learned to build their lives around each other. Their relationship is very strong.

"They've passed through all the stages of life, and now they can just accept the privilege of living. When you're stripped of the ability to earn money and stripped of the opportunity to travel the world, you learn to accept the gift to live life. Life is a gift from God."

The Burmans began coming to St. Petersburg during the winters about 30 years ago and eventually decided to live here year-round because Nellie couldn't withstand the cold climate .

The Burmans stayed in a nursing home for a short time in the past, but "it was very emotionally hard for them to be separate," Couch said. "Their lives are deeply interwoven."

At one time, Ludwig said the couple had a housekeeper coming to their home regularly and people delivering meals.

"But she fired them all," her son said. "She thought they were too expensive."

The Ludwigs, who take care of the Burmans' mobile home park rent, brought up the idea of moving them into an assisted-living center in November. At first, the couple said they would run away. Then, after touring Casa Celeste, they said, "Oh, you kids, this is too nice a place. We just wouldn't feel comfortable," Mrs. Ludwig recalled.

"We have movers coming on the 22nd. That'll be kind of traumatic. It'll be their last move. But I think they're ready now and they're going to a really nice place. It isn't just some old folks place where people walk around comatose.

"It looks like an apartment complex," Mrs. Ludwig said. "I think they'll really like it."

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